


Fragment

by ellasmellaa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Ex-bestfriends, Famous Harry, High School AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rich Louis, Slow Burn, aka I read so many fics it's time I pay back the community, possible smut if you're all so lucky, sports AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellasmellaa/pseuds/ellasmellaa
Summary: Louis Tomlinson occupies the most extravagantly pleasant mansion in Oakland Avenue, Ohio, and, luckily enough, just a bike ride down a nearby hill from that same mansion is Harry Styles' own rudimentary home. At least, it would be lucky, if Louis didn't absolutely hate his guts.The quiet celebrity (whom he shares far too many classes with for his own liking) is relatively easy for Louis to avoid. This is until, of course, it's declared that he'll be his new doubles partner for the upcoming tennis season, and Louis has to come to terms with the fact that he can't simply ignore his old childhood friend forever, as badly as he would like to.
Relationships: Larry Stylinson
Kudos: 4





	Fragment

“Doubles?” Louis blurts out, the surprise spilling from his lips before he can stop himself. “You have to be joking.”

Coach Parry looks up from her clipboard, face flat. 

“Will that be a problem for you, Mr. Tomlinson?”

He stands there, mouth still ajar from finishing his previous statement, and his teammates’ eyes glued to him. He fidgets with the tennis racket in his hands. “No. Sorry.”

Her eyes stay on him a moment longer before drifting to Louis’ right.

“And what about you Mr. Styles? Any objections?”

Harry stands as tall, calm, and unbothered as ever, and shakes his head.

Of course he doesn’t have any fucking objections, he’s getting exactly what he wants.

Louis anticipated that being a senior would mean the flashy things like, I dunno, getting to pick what position you play? He’s been gearing up since freshman year to absolutely demolish at state in singles, but every year has come just short. Nevertheless, tennis is _his_ sport. It’s _only_ his sport, which is why he plays singles, but now, like a gift from Satan himself, he has to play doubles. Not to mention he also has to be partners with the one person he hates most in the world; Harry Styles.

He’s been through too much shit to throw it all away on playing with him.

Coach Parry’s eyes linger on Louis, drilling holes into his sweaty forehead. “Come talk to me after practice, Louis,” she says, before looking back down to her clipboard and continuing reading it off. 

He can’t bring himself to listen to the rest of the draw. His mind goes a million miles a minute. He feels Harry’s eyes on his back behind him. He thinks he hears Liam be read off as some type of doubles. This can’t be real.

“Alright, everyone good with their placements?”

A couple of murmurs and curt nods are thrown around. Liam and Niall fist bump. They’re eyeing him too. Goddamnit, how miserable does he look?

She shoves the clipboard under her arm and brings her hands together. “Thank you guys again, great practice. Go home and rest up this weekend for practice Monday after school.”

Before long, he’s alone on the court with Coach, everyone else having retreated to the locker room.

“I know you’re a bit caught off guard by all that-”

Louis looks up, meeting her eyes. 

“-but I think you and Harry could be really great together. Not to mention that this is probably your greatest chance of taking State.”

Louis scowls at that meaner than intended. “You really think I couldn’t do that alone?”

She ignores the question. “I think two powerful players make an extra powerful team, Louis. Harry needs a new partner that matches his old partner’s skill, and you definitely have that.”

“And what if I want to play singles?”

She shakes her head. “That’s up to you Louis. The draft isn’t final yet. I solely based it on today’s practice. If after a couple of weeks you still feel that you would work better in singles, I’ll gladly put you back. Just give it a try for me, okay?”

Louis can’t help but feel guilty for complaining, but it’s still beyond frustrating. His head is welling up, and he can’t tell if it's because of anger or disappointment, but he has to get out of there either way.

Louis nods wildly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. I was just surprised. I’ll give it a try. Thank you.”

He gives her a half-smile before jogging off of the courts into the pergola. He tosses his racket in his bag and slings it over his arm, hurrying to get as far from the courts as he can. He needs to think.

He cracks open the door to the locker room noisily. It sounds like everyone is already gone, thankfully.

He rounds the corner and opens up his new senior locker (AKA a fancy name for one of the lockers of a reasonable size) and hangs his bag up. His hands trail up his face, grasping at his skin. It sticks to his sweaty palms on their way down. Louis could probably fall asleep right here.

Steps echo behind him, but his hands stay locked where they are, back turned to the noise. He can already tell who it is.

“I didn’t pick you, you know.”

Louis drops his hands with a sigh.

“Never thought you did.” He turns around.

Harry’s switched out his sweaty shirt for a black quarter zip. His hair is free from his pink headband and thrown about wildly on his head. 

“That was embarrassing. Your reaction. Just thought I’d let you know,” Harry quips, probably trying to get a rise out of him.

Louis shakes his head and drops his weight into the locker behind him. He rocks back on his heels. “Why are you here, Styles? Tryna annoy me into quitting, or something? Are you gonna jump me? What?”

A smirk sneaks onto his lips.

“I wanted to tell you that if you’re going to be playing with me, you’d better take it seriously. Elsie has your singles spot taken care of and she’ll be just fine. Focus on us, and we’ll be just fine too, alright?”

Louis blinks at him. 

“I think that’s the longest sentence I’ve ever heard you say, Styles.”

Harry scoffs and whips around. He reaches for the straps on his bag sitting on the bench next to him.

“It was like three sentences, dipshit.”

And with that, he leaves the locker room, and Louis, all alone.

-  
The ride home is long. It’s even longer because Louis opted to drive instead of using Freddie, his driver. Though he’d never admit it to anyone but himself, he’s terrified of driving at any speed over 25 mph. His hands are white from gripping the wheel so tight, and there's music playing low on the radio that he’s barely listening to.

He knows the exact moment he started to hate Harry. Down to the second.

He and Harry were friends when they were younger. Bestfriends, actually. After Louis’ father left, his mom packed up everything and dragged him to good-ole Ohio. That was the summer before Freshman year; grade 9. 

Louis anticipated being the talk of the town and was honestly disappointed when fewer than expected people did a double-take when they first heard him speak and even less gushed while he explained where he was from.

He quickly learned the reasoning, or rather reasonings, behind the lame reactions was the presence of a number of foreign kids at his school, Oakland Avenue Highschool (a quick conversation with his mom revealed that this was an upcoming “immigrant” town, of sorts). 

On the first day of school, he met Liam, and absolutely hated his guts. The second day, he met Niall, and the only reason that he didn’t meet him the first day was that he’d slept through it and not shown up. The moment he walked through the doors, Louis knew who he was.

On the third day, he met Harry in math class.

He wasn’t shy, rather quiet and reserved, almost like he had things to say but never cared enough to bring them to fruition. He would laugh and smile and throw back the occasional response, and Louis loved to talk, so they were perfect for each other. They sat together at a two-person desk, Harry on his left.

“I have no clue how to do this,” he said plainly, trying to start a conversation more than anything else.

Harry looked from the board to Louis. He glanced down at his paper.

“I do,” he said, and grabbed the paper from Louis’ side of the table. He dragged his pencil down the paper, quickly filling in the open lines with answers. That was the first time Louis had really noticed his accent.

From that moment on, the curly-haired boy was glued to his side rather forcefully. He lived at the bottom of Louis’ hill, he quickly found out, so he’d ride down every Saturday afternoon for his mom’s famous brunch and would hang out every moment therefore after. 

His mom was much too busy with work to do something like that, and Louis enjoyed the simpler lifestyle they led. Instead of drivers and chauffeurs, Harry rode his bike to school. If his mom wasn’t able to be home to make dinner, Harry would make it himself (and maybe a few scraps would fall into Louis’ mouth).

It was an escape for Louis, an escape from the suit fittings and business dinners. It was everything Louis’ life wasn’t.

They were inseparable. At least until Louis rode down the hill on just another Saturday expecting a brunch and was greeted with a horrific sight.

Harry’s bike that was usually strewn about lazily on his front lawn was gone. They were gone. He knocked. No answer.

The hundreds of texts and calls to Harry proved useless, and after a week or two, his number was disconnected. All of his social media had been deleted, and the ladies in the office weren’t allowed to disclose where he had gone. 

Louis stayed home from school for a while after that. Though he hates to admit it, he cried. A lot. 

But still then, he didn’t hate him. He _missed_ him.

Before he notices, Louis’ Black Bently is pulling into his long driveway. He waves to the gate manager and drives through the opening metal bars. He pulls into the garage, locks the door, and walks into his house. He’s greeted by his butler Arthur, who slips his jacket off of his shoulders and shoes off his feet and takes them back. His mother is absent, per usual, meeting with a client up in Cincinnati.

He catches a glimpse of the dinner the chefs prepared for him through the doorway but opts to skip and go lie down instead.

He walks up the victorian staircase to the third floor and walks down the elegant hallway all the way to the end where his room is. Before the door hangs a brightly shining crystal chandelier. It casts streaks of white beams across the dimly lit walls and floors. Louis reaches up on his tip-toes and brushes it with the edge of his index finger. 

A rush of warm air flies through the doorway as he walks in. He curses himself as he realizes he’s left his window open all day. He shuffles over, ditching his backpack and tennis clothes bag along the wall, and throws the window shut. He collapses onto his bed.

It’s barely 7:50 when he checks his phone, and he’s mind-numbingly bored. He finished his homework in the hour before practice, and Niall is on his way out of town with his uncle to go golfing. He swipes through Instagram, and YouTube, finding absolutely nothing of interest, before throwing his phone next to him on his queen size bed and flopping onto his back. His eyes trace the beams that cover the ceiling of his room in the apex of the house. They cross and divide in different directions, and in the middle where the room reaches its highest is another chandelier. One of a more pure and beautiful color. Louis’ eyes defocus, staring at it.

-

For the first few days after he found Harry gone, Louis rode down to his house and sat there, waiting. He’d hoped that maybe Harry had gone out of town for a few days, maybe to visit family, and didn’t have his phone with him. Even though Louis had a feeling that it wasn’t reality, he still, without fail, rode down that hill every day.

After the last week of school finished, Louis went around to the back of the house and shoved open the window to Harry’s bedroom that they rigged early into their friendship. It flew open, per usual, and Louis hopped inside.

No bed. No carpet. No anything.

He was gone.

-

Louis wakes to the sound of his phone buzzing against his pillow. He realizes he fell asleep in his workout clothes, and groans as he sits up and rubs his eyes. He swings his feet off of the bed and reaches behind him. He pulls the phone up to his adjusting eyes, the light of sunset now dispersed and hidden behind the horizon. 

It’s a bunch of texts from Niall. They’re coming in at an obscene rate. They’re pictures of his room and the house and the top of the hill, the sun shining brightly in whatever time zone he’s in. Louis loses track, honestly. Niall’s off to a different continent practically every other week. 

The messages read a mixture of “dudeee”s and “look how siiiick”s. Louis shuffles through them quickly, the effects of sleep making him unable to care nearly as much as Niall.

“Missing you here,” he replies. “I’m bored out of my mind.”

He clicks the phone off and tosses it back onto the bed behind him. He rubs his eyes once more. It’s almost 9 and he can’t even imagine going back to bed. All of the staff has gone home by 7:30, so Louis rips off his sweaty tee-shirt, changes into a fresh pair of grey sweatpants and white socks, and makes his way downstairs to the ballroom.

He pushes open the double doors, which ironically are double his size, and strolls into the dimly lit room. His socks slide across the cool hardwood flooring. If there’s one thing Louis wishes that his mother would invest in with her overflow of money, it’s a carpet or two.

The black piano is waiting for him, the chords of his last song he played still strewn about on top of it. He grabs them and sorts them together before dropping himself into the velvet seat below him. His foot rests on the pedal. He fiddles his fingers along the keys, wracking his mind for a moment trying to think of a song to play. He shakes his head. He rests his finger on middle C and presses. A clear chime rings out and fills Louis' head with bliss like a cool cloth on a burn.

The notes flow from his fingers before he can stop them, and suddenly he’s playing a song from his childhood piano lessons that he doesn’t know the name of. The tune is simple, but pure. He sits for a while, letting the melodic tune flow through the echoing empty room.

-

The first day of senior year is a little overwhelming. He walks into the auditorium and takes his seat next to Niall on the stage. Niall greets him extremely unsurprisingly, not stopping to catch his breath once as he gushes about his “totally sick” weekend. Louis listens, or maybe listens is too strong a word. He nods when he sees it fit and raises his eyebrows once every few sentences. Niall’s face bursts with joy as he talks about grass. Grass.

The room quiets as the principal does the senior inductee ceremony. Louis is called up to get his certificate and lightly knocks shoulders with Harry who’s on his way back to his seat. 

First period is Math, and of course Mrs. Kennedy has everyone seated in alphabetical order just like the last time Louis had her in Freshman year. He begrudgingly tosses his stuff on his half of the joint desk in front of his name card which displays “Mr. Tomlinson” in perfect calligraphy. Seeing it next to Harry’s also perfect “Mr. Styles” makes his blood boil.

Louis doesn’t really know how it got this way. Everything having to do with Harry in freshman year filled him with pride, almost like he was shoving it in the world’s face that he was Louis’, and only Louis’, bestfriend. He worshipped the ground he walked on, even if Harry was much less popular than him. It was like the feeling of finding an amazing band with a ton of songs and not a lot of fans. He was special. 

God, that memory feels so distant as Louis slips into the chair in front of him. He’s there a few minutes early, so he pulls out his phone and starts swiping through the apps on it. A text buzzes in from Niall, gloating and partially freaking out that he nabbed a seat next to a girl he’s been eyeing for awhile. Louis shoots a text back warning him not to be too creepy as he feels a presence sit in the chair next to him. Louis pays him no mind and opens up Instagram, clicking through stories he’s not even looking at.

The bell rings and there’s no sign of Mrs. Kennedy, so Louis sets his phone on the desk and slides down a little in his chair. He watches as a few stray students plow through the doorway and stumble around the room looking for their place card. Harry next to him has a notebook, folder, calculator, and pencil case, while Louis quite literally has nothing. The first day of school is always nothing but syllabuses and teachers telling the same stories they’ve told over and over. He thinks about bothering Harry, making fun of his pencil case or something, but he doesn’t. He’s too exhausted.

Surprisingly enough, Harry speaks up only a moment later, his low gravelly voice clawing at Louis’ ears.

“Coach is announcing Captains this week.” He throws out, eyes staring ahead.

Louis turns to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
Harry furrows his brows and looks down at Louis out of the corner of his eyes. “It _means_ , you better not pull any shit that would stop me from getting it.”

Louis has to physically stop himself from scoffing. “I better not pull any shit? Like what? Absolutely whooping you?”

A smile slips onto Harry’s mouth, and it’s infuriating. Back when they were best friends, Harry knew that acting unbothered made Louis _so_ mad in their fake fights. The only difference now is that it’s real, and a million times worse.

“In case you forgot, we’re partners now. We have to work together, no matter how much it absolutely pains you.” He says the last part sarcastically, playing on Louis’ already straining nerve. Luckily, before Louis can go for his neck, Mrs. Kennedy flies into the room with a coffee in one hand and a bucket of apologies in the other. Louis sits up, turning away from Harry so he can’t get the satisfaction of seeing his reaction.

-

He practically runs out of the school after last period and into the locker room. He throws on his white uniform with blue lettering around the “Tomlinson” on his back, and a pair of grey sweatpants over his matching white and blue shorts. He grabs his racket and a water and opens the door to leave as his teammates' voices trail into the room. Practice doesn’t start for another 15 minutes, but he has a point to prove.

The courts are empty. He quickly and pretty inefficiently stretches his legs before starting his sprints down the 5 courts. It’s mid August, so it doesn’t take long for him to grow too hot for his warm up, so he jogs back over to the locker room, greeting Liam and Elsie on his way down. 

Coach Parry is late per usual, so they start their group stretching by themselves, taking out the tennis balls, and starting to do short-court warmup with a partner. Before Louis even has time to turn around, a hand is pinching at his side, making him squirm away with a small squeal. 

Niall laughs as Louis’ racket falls to the court. Louis glares at him as a few eyes fall on them. Before Niall can finish laughing, Louis grabs two balls from the basket and his racket up from the ground and starts sprinting to the other side of the net. “Have fun facing the sun!” he yells to him, a smile of his own spreading.

When he turns around, Niall is staring at him, dumbfounded. It makes Louis laugh even more.

They do group drills for half of practice, hitting groundstroke, shortball, volley, overhead over and over until Coach spares them a sliver of mercy and let’s them get a water break. 

She walks up to the team gulping down water staring down at her signature clipboard that Louis has yet to even get a glance at. She mutters something to herself and marks something else.

“Alright!” she yells abruptly, gaining the attention of the entire team, most of them with their waters still hanging from their mouths. 

“We’re gonna do some challenge matches today. So first…”

She trails her pen down the board. “Eloise, you can play against… Percy. Court 1.”

The brunette spins around on the bench to face the black-haired boy. The two racket bump. 

“On court 2…” Coach continues. “I want Harry and Louis against Liam and Niall.”

Louis groans internally. He knew it was coming and it was honestly suspicious that he’d gotten out of playing with him for this long into practice. He glances up at Harry and sees that he was already staring at him, eyes rock hard as if trying to say “don’t you dare fuck this up for us”. Louis has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he raises his eyebrows and draws his lips into a flat line. Harry breaks the eye contact and turns his head away, seemingly more serious than before. Liam daps Niall up.

The racket spin grants Liam and Niall first serve which in turn causes a small argument between Louis and his partner about who is taking forehand and who is taking backhand. They end up having their own racket spin, and Louis luckily secures the forehand. Harry huffs dramatically but begrudgingly walks up to the net to volley.

Liam serves first, and Louis almost breaks his wrist returning his first serve. His first shot flies straight forward into the tape of the net. The ball drops and rolls into Harry’s white sneakers. He bends over, picks it up off of the denim blue court and tosses it back over to Liam. He spins on his heel and saunters back to the baseline. Louis doesn’t bother apologizing.

Harry does the exact same thing.

It goes pretty much horribly, and a mere five minutes later Louis is on the other side of the court serving, down 0-1.

Niall’s on forehand, so Louis opts for a more powerful serve. The ball barely hits the line and Niall taps it back right into Harry’s range. Harry slams it down into Liam’s feet. 

“Now we’re talking!” Liam erupts after he recovers. “Damn good play boys.”

Harry glances at Louis for a beat before turning back and throwing Liam a polite smirk. 

“Thanks Payno,” Louis yells, and unfortunately, yes, it was a very good play. It was a very good play that Coach Parry, watching intently from the outside of the fence, most definitely saw.

Louis’ serve doesn’t fail him. They take the game off of his first serve aces and once again Louis is returning. Niall walks to the line and hits a spin serve off to the alley, barely catching the line and flying into Elsie and Percy’s court. 

They lose that game too, almost as quickly as the first because neither can even get a racket on the ball. 

Harry’s serve is consistent. Infact, it is so consistent that the entire game he doesn’t use his second serve once. The other boys return them all crosscourt and Louis is growing more and more annoyed as the game goes on and he hasn’t touched the ball.

Suddenly, Niall on his forehand hits the ball a tad too early and it soars over the net heading for the deuce service line. Louis sprints back not looking behind him as he tracks the ball. He’s moments away from hitting it when, before he can realize what’s happening, he’s splayed out on the ground staring up into the bright blue sky with a ringing flowing through his head.

_Shit._

-

Harry and him spend the rest of practice watching all of the other challenge matches with ice packs pressed to different parts of their bodies.

Louis messes with the back of his shoe with his other foot while staring at the grass under him. Neither of them have said a single word to each other since the overwhelmingly embarrassing moment Louis blinked and realized that half of his team was standing over him. 

Harry is quiet next to him. Louis glances up through a tuft of sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. Harry’s eyes follow the ball flying back and forth between Elsie and Percy’s rackets on court 1.

He turns away. “I had it, you know.”

Harry’s eyes fall and meet Louis’.

“So did I.”

Louis shakes his head and sighs. He doesn’t reply and presses the warming ice pack further into his shoulder.

Elsie switches the scorecard to show 4-1 and switches sides.

“How’s your mom?”  
Louis clenches his jaw. “Since when do you give a fuck?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Why’re such a dick?”

“I’m not. You just bring out the worst in me.”

He slumps over slightly, sighing. “Whatever Lou.”

“Never call me that again.” 

It comes out more malicious than intended, but Harry doesn’t seem to care, turning back to the courts.

“How many followers are you at by now? God, it has to be millions, innit?”

Harry doesn’t reply.

“Y'know they still think we’re friends?” Louis chuckles. “I see it all the time. They post pictures of us chumming it up when we were, what, 14? You’d think some gossip column could’ve picked up a hint and have written about it by now.”

Harry’s head turns towards him swiftly. “Lou-”

“The fuck did I just say?”

“-Louis,” he continues, not faltering, “If you’re just gonna make fun of me, shut up.”

Louis smirks. “Guess I better shut up then.” He pulls himself off of the bench and walks over to refresh his ice pack, leaving the other boy alone.

-

“You’re incorrigible.”

Louis turns towards the blonde headed boy in the seat next to him. “What?”

“Incorrigible. That was one of our vocab words in English today. You’re it.”

“Okay.” Louis sets his leg up on the seat and turns his upper body to face him. “Why am I.. that?”

“Because.” Niall shrugs. “You’re throwing a fit like a toddler because you’ve gotta play with Harry.”

Louis groans. He’d honestly rather talk about golf than Harry right now.

“You know it’s true. I haven’t seen you play that bad since like, ever.”  
“Maybe it’s because I’m not a doubles player?”

“Oh don’t give me that bull, it’s the same damn thing.”

“No-” Louis starts, before glancing at the driver in the seat in front of him and lowering his volume. “No, it’s not. Especially when _he’s_ my partner.”

Niall slaps Louis’ shoulder with the back of his hand. “There it is! That’s all it’s been with you lately. Harry this, Harry that.”

Louis grunts and turns forward again, throwing his back into the seat.

“Look,” Niall continues in a less raised tone, “I get it, alright? It sucks. He sucks. But you being miserable only makes the situation more annoying.”

Louis laughs breathily. “For you or for me?”

Niall grins. “Both.”

Louis sighs. He’s right. He really is right, but the sudden submergence of pure _Harry_ in every aspect of his life is bringing back emotions and anger he’s never fully addressed. He was fine with suppressing it because he barely ever even saw Harry outside of passing until this school year.

“All I wanted was to play singles. I probably would’ve gotten over it if it was with someone else, but it just had to be him.”

The black car flies down the backstreet surrounded by skyscraping trees leading to Niall's house. The sun is setting over the town, casting a warm orange light on everything. Louis watches the road pass, listening to the steady blow of the crisp air conditioning. 

They don’t speak until Louis’ driver pulls into Niall’s gated driveway and Niall starts collecting his things. His driver pulls forward and turns at an angle to face the large front door. The door clicks open and Niall steps out. He falters for a moment before sticking his head back in through the barely open doorway.

“Hey man, it’s gonna be alright, okay? I know it all sucks right now but, who knows, maybe you two will become friends again.”

Louis scoffs. “See you later Niall.”

Niall shakes his head. “You’ll see how wise I am one day.”

“Sure thing, you ass.”

Niall smiles one of his big, toothy smiles, before thanking the driver and shutting the door, beginning to stroll into his huge home.

Louis considers the possibility Niall proposed for a moment and nearly gags. The car starts towards the road.

Yeah fucking right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! if you're reading this, you made it to the end of my first chapter!! i honestly cannot thank you enough for taking the time. i do have a few parting messages:  
> 1\. this is my first fanfic on ao3, but i've been writing a great majority of my life and have published fics on other sites (that by god i hope never see the light of day)  
> 2\. yes, this is in part unbelievers inspired, but not totally what you're thinking. i didn't base it off the whole "two teen boys on a sports team hate each other but have to work together to help their team to victory" trope (which I still love). i was mainly inspired by the gradual dynamic change and watching their relationship blossom in that fic. it inspired me to write my own fic, and this is just the plot that fell out of my brain  
> 3\. well, I don't have a number 3, it just sounded better to have three
> 
> i hope you'll stick around. thanks again and ily <3


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